


Steadier Footing

by Konstantya



Series: The Edelweiss Arc [11]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cold War, Drama, F/M, Historical Hetalia, Picnics, Romance, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-26
Updated: 2011-10-26
Packaged: 2019-03-21 10:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13738578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Konstantya/pseuds/Konstantya
Summary: 1989, and the borders open.





	Steadier Footing

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published (on FF.net and LJ) on October 26, 2011. Cross-posted here on February 19, 2018.
> 
> A Chinese translation of this fic can be found [here](http://aphsuez.lofter.com/post/1d5af8b0_e03af68).
> 
> Time period: August 19, 1989.

 

Austria does not sleep the night of August 18th. He tosses and turns for the first hour, then stares at the ceiling for the second, before he finally gives up and goes to his piano.

He plays Mozart, and Chopin, and Liszt, and Haydn's _La Vera Costanza,_ until he finally purges enough of his anxieties to fall asleep at the instrument. The birds outside, that are waking with the dawn, pick up where he leaves off.

Austria wakes around seven o'clock, stiff and sore, glasses crooked, indentations on his cheek, and stumbles to his kitchen for a cup of coffee. Afterward, he showers, then tries to eat breakfast, but only manages to force down half a piece of coffee cake.

He doesn't know where the time goes, but too soon it is the afternoon, and he must prepare himself for the day.

He dresses in a suit and tie—medium-grey and royal blue, respectively, because she once said the color brought out his eyes. On his way toward Sopron, he stops his car, and at the last minute, picks a handful of tulips from a nearby field. She has always liked flowers, and the tulip is hers, just as the edelweiss is his.

Austria wonders, briefly, at his attempts to make a good impression, but puts those misgivings behind him—along with so many others he has dragged around for decades.

 

\---

 

It is her hair he notices first.

Just a momentary glimpse, between the bobbing heads and excitement, but he knows those light brown locks to be hers and hers alone.

His feet seem to move of their own accord, and he finds his mouth automatically excusing himself past his countrymen, and hers, and even some of Prussia's—rather, the German Democratic Republic's. Before he knows it, his legs have come to a halt, and he is in front of her, and she is in front of him. The rest of the world buzzes and swirls, and almost half a century of silence spans the mere meter between them.

She wears a summer dress, short-sleeved and knee-length, pale green and pink—colors that have always complemented her. She carries a small basket on her arm and grips her hands in front of her.

She is thinner than he remembers, but just as beautiful as ever.

Austria cannot feel his heart beating, and he is sure it has stopped in fear.

_"…Guten tag,"_ she says quietly, and Austria blinks.

_"J-jó napot,"_ he stutters, swallowing nervously, belatedly remembering the flowers in his hand, feeling as awkward as every school-boy who ever had a crush as he offers them.

Hungary takes them carefully, not letting her fingers brush his, but she smiles, burying the tremulous expression in the blooms.

 

\---

 

They spend the afternoon in true picnic fashion, sitting across from each other on a blanket, frankfurters and cheap beer between them, catching up on the past forty years.

Austria talks about his recovery. How he and soft-spoken Japan are developing quite the friendship. How Switzerland will sometimes invite him to visit, but let Liechtenstein do all the talking. How he had to put up with America—boisterous, ridiculous America—so he could film his saccharinely addictive movie, _The Sound of Music_. He even finds himself confessing to her—very quietly, the first person he has dared to tell this to—that yes, he will admit rock'n'roll has its musical merits, but he still has yet to warm up to England's punk movement. Hungary laughs, bites her bottom lip, and reluctantly promises to never let the secret out.

Hungary talks about her time with Russia. She glosses over the details he knows must be painful, and instead jumps to the better memories. How Poland was so eager to donate his blood, he tried to draw it himself, with little idea as to how one actually performed the procedure. How she tried—in vain—to give Lithuania love advice, and that maybe he should try going for Russia's older, less aggressive sister. How she reconciled with Prussia enough to tolerate him in most circumstances, and Austria actually smiles at the mention of his old enemy who somehow became a trusted ally, if not an outright friend.

The three hours pass too quickly.

"I…guess I have to be going," Hungary says, looking back at the border fence.

Out of sight, Austria fidgets his hand. "You…you could stay," he offers, awkwardly, anxiously, fearing he has misheard the conversation they didn't speak, and that this is the wrong thing to say.

Her eyes flick up to meet his, almost as if she's surprised by his words. "…And go home with you?" she asks.

"Y-yes," he says breathlessly.

Hungary smiles shyly, and Austria is certain he is dreaming. "I think I'd like that."

 

\---

 

The estate they once shared was destroyed in the last World War. The house he now calls his home is on the larger side, yes, but hardly a mansion. His office is on the first floor, along with his parlor, dining room, and the kitchen he now does more than simply bake in. Upstairs is his bedroom, the guest rooms, and his study, which also doubles as his music room. He has a maid and a gardener, yes, but they do not live on the premises; he keeps his own house, these days.

After the tour, they stand in his parlor, which is as elegant as ever, but also much simpler. The low, gold light of the summer evening catches in the ivory curtains, and Austria finally says, "I'm sorry."

At his grave tone, Hungary cocks her head, gently, curiously. "For what?" she asks.

"For everything, I think. Certainly everything since the First World War."

Her lips twitch—so slightly, he cannot tell if the expression is related to a smile or a frown. She looks off to the side, out his window. "That was a long time ago," she murmurs, simply.

Austria waits. An hour passes in the span of one breath.

"Do you think we could—?" She breaks off. Presses her lips together and turns back to him. "I want to start over," she says. "With you."

Austria cannot tear his eyes from her, as if to do so might cause her to disappear. He hears himself ask, "Do you think it would work?"

Hungary shrugs carefully. "You're not an empire anymore," she points out. "I'm not your maid."

"We're not married? We're not at war?" he adds, a little self-deprecatingly, and she smiles tentatively at this new, droll side of him.

"Foreign relations will be easier, I think."

Austria exhales, feeling so hopeful, he wonders that his heart doesn't break from relief.

"I missed you," he whispers.

Hungary swallows, her green eyes shimmering. "I missed you, too."

He is not sure who moves first, but they fall into an embrace, his arms around her waist and her hands around his shoulders. His fingers find her hair, her neck, her cheek, and for the first time in over seventy years, he kisses her. (He doesn't count their meeting at the end of the Second World War; he was too out of his head to know what he was doing.)

For the first time in over seventy years, he kisses her.

 

\---

 

They spend the rest of the evening making love, stopping just long enough to fix a quick dinner, filled with gropes and gasps, before abandoning the leftovers on the stove and the wine on the table. Austria isn't even bothered by the prospect of waiting until morning to clean up dirty dishes and spoiled food.

They lay in his bed later that night, her back nestled against his chest, his arm draped over her waist, and two expanses of bare skin pressed alongside each other.

"I guess I'll have to do what all the girls are doing these days, and leave a toothbrush at your place," Hungary muses.

"Mmm, yes," he mumbles into her hair. "Oral hygiene is elegant."

She giggles. Laces her fingers through his. They settle comfortably in the darkness.

Before they fall asleep, Hungary breaks the easy silence, murmuring with curious amusement, "One question…"

Austria lets his arm tighten contently around her before relaxing again. "Mmh?" he hums sleepily.

"Why didn't _I_ get a Chanel dress through the black market?"

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> -About the Pan-European Picnic, which took place on August 19th, 1989. The border between Austria and Hungary, near the Hungarian town of Sopron, was opened for three hours, allowing the two countries to mingle and have a grand ol' time. The (anticipated) consequence of this was that hundreds of Hungarians (and even East Germans) were able to flee to the west. It was one of the major events leading up to the fall of the Iron Curtain.
> 
> - _La Vera Constanza_ : An (obscure) opera, essentially about two lovers who married long ago, then have a very drama-ridden (and almost tragedy-ridden) falling out before eventually reuniting. It was originally written for the Eszterházy court in Hungary.
> 
> - _"Guten tag"_ and _"Jó napot"_ : Formal ways of saying "hello" in German and Hungarian, respectively.
> 
> - _The Sound of Music_ was filmed on location in Salzburg, Austria and the German state of Bavaria.
> 
> -Poland donating blood: After the Hungarian Revolution of 1956 was put down, Poles literally _swamped_ donation clinics, they were so eager to help their Hungarian neighbors.
> 
> -The Chanel dress: A reference to [Diamonds and Rust](http://konstantya.dreamwidth.org/12817.html), one of my other fics in this arc (in which Austria has a Chanel dress anonymously delivered to Poland).
> 
>  
> 
> Trivia: This is actually "Pan-European Picnic, take two." I used the event as the premise for my very first Hetalia fic, [Chance of Rain](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13739214)—but as that was before I really settled into my head-canon, I ended up not being very happy with it. So it got a complete revamp for the purpose of this arc.
> 
>  
> 
> A/N: So there you have it—the end of the Edelweiss Arc! (I truly do like happy endings, believe it or not—I just like to make my characters earn them. XD)


End file.
